Page 54 of Heirs of the Cursed

“For not controlling my temper in your presence.” Harg lowered his gaze. He hid his hands behind his back and the weapon belt shifted, causing a clash between his golden sword and silver daggers. “Even if it was a necessary measure.”

“I can’t say if it’s proper for a man to lose his fingers in such a brutal manner, regardless of whether he is an imbecile.”

“Derric Rogen is an asshole who was admitted to the Royal Army because of his family’s wealth. Both the king and his advisors thought it was a brilliant idea to accept him into their ranks due to their significant contribution to the royal coffers.”

“It seems to me that this story has one big ‘but.’”

Harg’s grin was so subtle that Darcia thought she’d imagined it. “But it’s no mystery that Rogen has always wanted more. Being a soldier under my command is an understatement to him. He thinks that if he talks too much or shows arrogance, it will make others follow him and believe he might be a better leader.”

“Do you think he can propose a mutiny?”

“I doubt it. He values his head too much to lose it. What you saw at the tavern was nothing more than a lesson for him to learn to shut his mouth.”

Darcia didn’t dare to say anything. While it was true that the soldier was a redoubtable jerk, she couldn’t help but believe thatthose atrocities were vile and unnecessary. Perhaps her heart had softened after Conrad’s beatings, or she was naive enough to believe in second chances.

“Will he be able to regain full mobility of his hand?”

“It will take him a long time to try, but the lesson has helped,” Harg explained. “I don’t regret anything I’ve done that night, except knowing that you had to see it.”

Darcia shook her head. “I’ve witnessed many brutalities and heard of many others. The world can be cruel if it sets its mind to it.”

“It sounds like you know more than you’re talking about,” Harg replied.

“To survive, you must cross every boundary and endure many cruelties,” Darcia said as Conrad’s face came to her mind.

Harg raised an eyebrow. “You mean being exploited in the circus?”

“How did you . . .”

“You’re not invisible, Darcia, no matter how much you wish you were.”

Against her will, tears burned in her eyes, but she cleared her throat before saying, “It’s a job like any other.”

“It’s not. It’s a job in your brother’s circus.”

“And what’s the difference, if I may ask?” Darcia asked incredulously.

“Conrad can be . . . a very complicated person.”

“If you know that and seek an ally in him all the same, you must have less heart than I thought.”

An unexpected pain flickered in the Chaser’s eyes. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Shouldn’t I? You say you know what Conrad does and yet you don’t do anything about it. Instead, you’re his friend. Because who cares about the crippled, the abandoned children or the outcasts? If you really know what happens beyond a circus tentor the door of a home, that not only makes you a bad person, but a damn coward.”

Harg stood upright as Darcia cursed her imprudent comment. She held back, retreating a couple of steps, aware of her monumental mistake. Before she could think of a hasty apology, the general seized the initiative.

“I want you to answer me honestly, Darcia. Has your brother ever laid a hand on you?”

Darcia faced him, her eyes slightly reddened with unshed tears. The very idea of revealing the truth felt like an impossible mountain to climb. Conrad had made it clear what would happen if she said anything, if she even dared to ask for help . . .

Her life belonged to him,everythingshe was.

And there was no escaping it.

“Darcia, answer me, please,” the general asked. “Did he hurt you?”

Yet, the pain in her chest felt like a thousand daggers piercing her heart. Her magic stirred fiercely in her body; a fervent desire to escape out of rage and grief, which made her plunge into the abyss. She just closed her mouth and shook her head, hiding the truth behind a smile.

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